


Restoration

by PrimaryScavQueen



Category: 12 Monkeys (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Healing the team, Post Season 3, season 4 speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-17 14:43:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13661145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimaryScavQueen/pseuds/PrimaryScavQueen
Summary: When Deacon goes missing, Cassie, Cole, Jennifer, and Hannah search for him. The search leads not just to Deacon but to truths that need to be faced.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, ect, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Note: This is my theory about Deacon's role in Team Splinter in Season 4. Jennifer was a delight to write in this piece. Then again, she always is. This is unbeta-ed, please forgive any mistakes. I always appreciate feedback!

**L O S T**

 

“Where’s Deacon?”

           

Cassie looked up from the file she had been studying for the last hour at the sound of Cole’s voice. Her eyes fell to the empty chair across from her and she blinked, her eyes dry. She hadn’t noticed him leave. Hadn’t noticed anything outside the words on the page as they dug into any lead on Olivia.

 

“I…I don’t know.”

 

            Cole blew out a breath and dropped into the vacated seat. He scrubbed his hands over his face, through his hair.

 

“We don’t have time for this.” He sighed, his shoulders sagging.

 

“We don’t have time for much of anything.” Jones’ voice was an unhappy rasp from the doorway, not that it sounded any different that her normal tone.

 

“Do we have any idea of where to find him?” Cassie asked, looking to Cole.

 

“Why are you looking at me?” He replied, “You were the only one he ever got close to, talked about his past with.”

 

“I have a few ideas.” Jennifer’s husky alto interrupted and she tapped her temple, “I could use a break anyways. I’m going cross eyed from all this reading.”

 

“A walk would be good.” Hannah agreed, standing and stretching, “I’m tired of being cooped up in this place.”

 

            Cassie looked around the plain, ugly walls of the warehouse they had rented in 2016, the closest time they could get before the virus began. Gathering coats against the late fall chill, they headed outside. Jennifer led the way, a spring in her step. Cassie marveled at her energy. Cassie felt like she’d aged one hundred years, like her bones were made of stone. Like they were inlayed with every year she had lived in and out of time, every life she had taken, every loss she had suffered. Shoving her hands into her pockets, they moved down into the subway.

 

            They took one train and switched to another. Cassie watched the other passengers and how disengaged they all were. Except for Jennifer, she was doing that low, huffing laugh as she played peek-a-boo with a little girl who looked to be around three years old. Cassie looked away, reminded all too swiftly of her stolen child and his fate, and watched the screen as it showed how close they were getting to their destination.

 

            When the train finally came to a stop, they followed Jennifer back up to the surface. Three blocks later, they were in front of a cemetery.

 

“Why would he be here?” Cole asked.

 

“It’s his mother’s birthday.” Jennifer’s voice was quiet and she started inside.

 

            They found the grave of Maribell Elizabeth Deacon underneath a towering oak in the far corner of the lot. Deacon was nowhere to be found but there was evidence that he had been there. Fresh flowers rested on the ground, pink and white petals bright against the deep green grass. Jennifer crouched down and touched them.

 

“Good bye.” She murmured, “They mean good bye.”

 

            Cassie stepped around Jennifer as a glinting object caught her eye. Pulling her hands from her pocket, she lifted the necklace that was laid across the stone. The metal was cold in her fingers. The ring that hung on the chain swung like a pendulum, a slow tick-tock back and forth.

 

“He told me he’d never take it off.” Cassie shook her head and slipped it into her pocket.

 

“Shouldn’t you leave that there?” Hannah asked, “He left it for a reason.”

 

Cole snorted. “It couldn’t have been a good one.”

 

“This was a bust.” Cassie declared.

 

“Well, I definitely know where he is now.” Jennifer straightened, “Cab will get us there fastest.”

 

**F O U N D**

 

“Please tell me he’s not really in here.” Cassie groused as they approached _Casual Friday’s Gentleman’s Club_.

 

Jennifer snorted, dark eyes alight with amusement. “Don’t tell me you’re a prude, Cass.”

 

“I’m not a prude.”

 

“You sound like one.” Cole had the audacity to grin at her.

 

“Don’t make me hit you.”

 

“I don’t get it, what is this place?” Hannah asked.

 

Jennifer swung her arm around the other woman’s neck. “This, my dear, is a strip club. Women dance to music and take off their clothes for money.”

 

“Sounds…entertaining…”

 

“It can be!” Jennifer said, “But it is the middle of the day so who knows what the talent is like…but I’ve heard they have an excellent lunch deal.”

 

Cole choked on his laughter as Cassie punched him in the shoulder. “Let’s stop messing around and go get him.”

 

“Prude!” Jennifer sang as they descended into the den of sin.

 

            It took Cassie’s eyes a minute to adjust to the dim lighting. The bass thumped hard enough to vibrate in her chest. The song was slow, sexy, one she vaguely recognized. Deacon was lounging in a chair by the stage, downing a glass of whisky, watching a beautiful topless woman with lilac hair dance around the pole. Cassie pulled up a chair behind him while Jennifer gleefully plopped down in the empty chair to his right. Hannah took his other side while Cole pulled up a chair next Cassie.

 

“Couldn’t you guys have left me the fuck alone for a few hours?” Deacon growled, depositing the empty glass on the table with a hard thud.

 

“No. You’re part of the team. We need you with us.” Cassie felt like she was yelling but knew the bass wouldn’t let her voice carry beyond his ear.

 

“Am I?” He questioned as he pulled out a five from his wallet and held it between his fingers.

 

            The dancer moved across the stage with a sleek grace that made Cassie think she had to have some sort of formal training; her dance smooth, sexy. Deacon slid the bill into the waist band of her panties. Jennifer stood and clapped her hands gleefully.

 

“What are you doing?” Deacon asked her, not taking his eyes off the dancer as she returned to the pole and swung around, gaining enough momentum to lift herself off the floor, twisting her body as she twirled.

 

“Hitting the ATM!”

 

“The ATM fees in a strip club are fucking ridiculous.” He told her.

 

She chuckled. “Oh, sweet Deacon, I don’t have to worry about things like fees…or blowing an insane amount of cash on dances. I have old school money.”

 

“I forget sometimes that you’re actual stupid rich.” He gave her a small, indulgent smile.

 

“Be back!” She trilled, patting him on the cheek before she disappeared to the front of the club.

 

“C’mon, Deacon. I don’t want to be here all day.” Cassie snapped, “Talk to me, to us.”

 

            That drew his attention away from the stage. Cassie was unprepared for the intensity of his gaze when their eyes clashed. His green eyes were bright, sharp, angry. They simmered with an undercurrent of rage that was nearly tangible. Her breath caught in her throat.

 

“ _Now_ you want to talk.” His voice was a growl, low and deep, “Now?”

 

The breath released slowly, nearly whispering his name. “Deacon—“

 

“Do you realize that we’re only in this mess _because_ of your shitty decisions? Because of your selfishness? You and Cole. You ended the world.”

 

Cassie moved to protest, but the words died on her lips. _You and Cole. You ended the world._

 

Cole’s hand wrapped around her thigh. “I won’t apologize for any of the choice I’ve made, _Theodore_.”

 

“You should.” He turned in his chair as Jennifer returned and shoved a wad of cash into his hand, “The mission would have been over by now.”

 

She passed some down to Hannah and held some out to Cassie. Cassie shook her head quickly, stomach churning. Cole’s hand squeezed her leg and she felt his breath on her ear.

 

“C’mon, let’s leave them be. If anyone can get him back, it’s Jennifer.”

 

            Cassie didn’t need any further convincing. She stood up and let Cole led her out of the building. Outside the midday sun was nearly brutal, her eyes burned and watered at the harsh contrast. A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand.

 

“Is he right?” She asked Cole.

 

He shrugged. “It’s too late now, even if he is. We have to continue on. Stop Olivia. Get back to the mission.”

 

            The door to the club opened and Hannah stepped out onto the sidewalk, blinking a few times.

 

“You decided not to stay?” Cole asked her.

 

“Jennifer decided to treat Deacon to a private dance in the back room and ended up joining him.”  She shrugged, “I’m of better use back with my mother. Shall we?”

 

**R E S T O R A T I O N**

 

            Thanks to Jennifer and her old school money, they were staying in a penthouse suite in one of the nicer hotels of Manhattan. That old school money also provided a surprising amount of anonymity and privacy. Better than the Emerson. And it didn’t feel as haunted.

 

            Cole had gone to bed in their room hours ago but Cassie couldn’t sleep. She lingered in the common area, staring out the window at the glimmering lights of the city below. The unassuming masses didn’t know how close they were to death. The bleakness of her thoughts made her shiver. She turned away as the door opened and Jennifer and Deacon poured into the room. Jennifer was wrapped around Deacon’s back, laughing as he carried her. Cassie was relieved that Deacon’s mood seemed to have improved. But alcohol was more than likely a factor than him actually being happy.

 

            Jennifer slid off his back and barreled into Cassie, hugging her but mostly leaning into her. Cassie failed not to laugh as she supported Jennifer’s weight.

 

“Repair.” The other woman whispered and gave Cassie a peck on the cheek, a hard slap on the ass that made Cassie jump, and wandered away.

 

“I didn’t realize she’d be so handsy.” Cassie muttered.

 

“Jennifer’s always tactile.” Deacon replied, stepping closer, so close she could smell the cigar smoke that clung to his clothes and the whiskey breath and an undercurrent of something that was just him. The mixture of scents was soothing in a way she hadn’t expected, “Waiting up, Cas?”

 

Shrugging, she moved to the couch and sat down. “Couldn’t sleep.”

 

“Please cut the bullshit. I’m really tired of it.” Deacon plopped down next to her.

 

She tried to not let that get to her, tried to fight the instinct to snap at him, but she remembered what Jennifer had whispered to her. _Repair._ Swallowing she angled herself towards him, her knees bumping into his. He looked so tired, the scar across his face standing out starkly. Tentatively, she reached out and traced it. It was wider than expected, a sign it hadn’t been stitched clean enough. He sighed at her touch, his eyes wary as she pulled away.

 

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, “I am. I’m sorry that I destroyed your trust in me. I’m sorry that I pushed you away back then…I’m _not_ sorry for shooting you.” Cassie locked her eyes with his, “I had to protect my son.”

 

He nodded. “See, that. That I respect. I get that. Hell, if my mother would have had access to a firearm, I’m sure my life would have been much, much different.”

 

The dam had broken and words spilled out, words she should have said a long time ago. “Thank you for saving me. Time and again. You were the one who taught me how to fight. Cole may have taught me how to fire a gun but you were the one who taught me how to survive, how to fight for myself and those I care about.” She licked her lips and continued, “Thank you for being my port in the storm when I was scared and needed a comfort. I’m sorry for diminishing that night. It did mean more to me than just sex.”

 

He shifted. “I fell in love with you that night. I knew I shouldn’t have but fuck, Cas, how could I _not_?” His words were nearly anguished.

 

“I regret hurting you.”  Her throat tightened and she cleared it softly.

 

Shaking his head, he sighed. “You came to me but you were never truly mine. Your heart always belonged to Cole.”

 

Unexpected, her eyes stung as tears bit at her eyes. “I’m sorry I was so cold—“

 

“Please, don’t apologize anymore.” He held up a hand, “I was the fool…I’m still the fool. The one who doesn’t belong.”

 

“What are you talking about? Without you, we wouldn’t be here. I’d still be trapped on Titan…”

 

“The Word of the Witness, all the files, I’m not there.” He sighed, “Not important enough.”

 

Cassie was on her feet before she even realized it. “Theodore William Deacon.” She said firmly, her tone gentle, “You have your role with us. You’re imperative to this team. To us. To me.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the necklace, holding it out to him, “You’re not on record but that just means you’re meant for more. You’re the key. You’re the one Olivia won’t see coming.”

 

In a fast movement, Deacon’s hands caught her waist and hauled her down against him. Colliding into him was like hugging a brick wall. He held her tight and she buried her face into his neck. This was what had been missing—the bond she had forged with him.  In the simple embrace, she felt a peace fall between them.

 

“Thank you.” His voice was quiet.

 

Cassie lifted her face and leaned back, unclasping the necklace and putting it around his neck. “No need to thank me.”

 

“Yeah, I do.” He touched the underside of her chin, his calloused fingertips scratching gently at her skin, “Thank you for reminding me how to live. Not just survive.”

 

“Softy.” She teased, giving him a light kiss on the cheek.

 

His arms released her and dropped to the cushions. “Get to bed. I’m sure he’s missing you.”

 

Cassie rose. “Get some sleep, Deacon. I’m sure you’ll feel like hell in the morning.”

 

He gave her a lopsided smile. “For the first time in a long time, I don’t think I will.”

 

She moved through the living room, heading upstairs. As she passed Deacon’s door, Cassie found Jennifer in the doorway, a towel wrapped around her body. Her dark hair was flat against her head, droplets of water beading down the front of the towel.

 

“Restored.” She murmured, smiling that smile that spoke worlds deeper than Cassie could ever know.

 

“Take care of him?” Cassie replied, a question and a statement all rolled into one.

 

            Jennifer nodded wordlessly and turned, moving back into the bedroom. Cassie moved on, heading to her and Cole’s suite. The light under the door told her that Cole was awake before she opened the door. He was laying on their bed, reading a book, looking up only when she closed the door.

 

“How did it go?” He asked as he slid a bookmark between the pages and set the book on the nightstand.

 

“Good.” Cassie said simply, “We cleared the air.”

 

“Good. It’s the one thing he’s always valued. Honesty.” He smiled slightly, “And a good bottle of whisky.”

 

“I’m sure he had more than a few of those tonight judging by the way he and Jennifer smelled.” Cassie changed into her pajamas, a functional pair of soft pants and a tank top and crawled into bed beside Cole.

 

She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into his chest. Cole dropped a kiss to the top of her head and exhaled deeply. He shut off the lamp and settled down. She clung to him, listening his heart beat. Earlier, she felt like an ancient, now after purging the built-up emotions, she exhausted. More so than she’d been in a long time. She always tried to stay somewhat alert _just in case_ but now, she felt like she could sleep forever.

 

“Rest, Cassie.” He murmured, “We have a long day tomorrow.”

 

            She closed her eyes, the sound of his heart lulling into peaceful darkness.


	2. Signal | Kindred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is coming to help Team Splinter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, ect, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Note: The very opening of this chapter was in my head but the rest ran away with me. I honestly don't know where this is going...But anyways, this is also unbeta-ed so I hope it makes sense. Also, part of Jennifer and Deacon's dialogue is a throw back to my fic "Sanctuary", if part of it seems familiar.

S I G N A L

 

Sleep fell away from him as a crisp breeze rolled over the bare skin of his back. Deacon rolled over in the plush bed and found that his companion was gone but the French doors to the balcony open. He got out of bed, sliding his boxers up his legs, he moved out into the cool night and blinked at the sight in front of him. Jennifer stood up on the railing, her arms out at her sides. Her body was perfectly still, toes curled around the ledge. The breeze picked up, blowing her white nightgown around her legs. Her long, unbound dark hair flew wild.

           

            She looked almost angelic, otherworldly. It was that thought that sent a shiver down his spine. He moved closer to her and leaned against the railing to her left. If he needed to, he could catch her faster than she could fall. Seeing her profile in the moonlight, he had a hunch falling wasn’t her goal. Her dark eyes were moving back and forth as if she was hunting; her finger tips were reaching out as if she were searching.

 

“I can feel him.” Her voice was caught in the wind and he had to strain to hear her words, “He’s out there…so _close._ ”

 

“Who is?” He asked, folding his arms across his chest, trying to keep some of his body heat, “Another enemy? An operative of Olivia?”

 

“No.” Her voice was wistful, “A friend.”

 

Deacon snorted. “We could use one of those.”

 

Jennifer smiled. “I can almost feel him.”

 

“Why don’t you feel him back here on the ground?”

 

She looked down at him and gave him a little smile. “Worried I’m going to swan dive?”

 

He shrugged. “I’d catch you before you’d fall.”

 

“I know.” She angled her arm towards him.

 

            He pushed off the railing and took her hand. Her skin was like ice and it rose goosebumps across his skin.

 

“C’mere.” Deacon muttered as he guided her down and bundled her into his arms.

 

            Back inside, he tucked her back into bed, pulling the blankets over her shoulders. After shutting the doors, he sunk down onto the mattress behind her and wrapped his arms around her as shivers racked her slim frame. He buried his face into her hair, trying to will his body to warm up faster so her teeth could stop chattering. Gradually, she warmed and the heat between them was comfortable, soothing. Deacon was nearly asleep when she spoke again.

           

“You quiet the voices.” She murmured, “Your touch. It’s solid, like a fortress. It’s why I’ve been in your bed more than mine.”

 

“Here I thought it was my charm.”

 

She huffed a soft laugh. “You are charming. In a roguish way.”

 

            They fell quiet and her breathing became deep and even under his arm. Certain she was asleep, he rolled onto his back and tucked his arm underneath his head. The silver light of the moon was bright enough he could make out the details of the ceiling. It was embossed with swirling designs and he traced them with his eyes, hoping the repetition would help him fall asleep. Jennifer rolled over and draped her arm over him.

 

“Stop thinking.” She murmured, her handing coming up to pat his cheek, “Good things are coming.”

 

“Define good things.”

 

“First, we had restoration: you, Cassie. Now kindred comes.”

 

“Kindred?”

 

“The immortal seeks his kind.”

 

Confusion buzzed about his mind. “None of us are immortal.”

 

“Aren’t we?” Her eyebrow quirked.

 

            He didn’t have an answer for that. Given their ability to travel through time and now living outside of time…who knows what would happen to them if they died. Hell, who even knew what would happen if they won the war against the Army of the 12 Monkeys? Theoretically, they were going to be erased and reset but could living outside of time change that?

 

“You’re making me think myself in circles.” He grumbled.

 

            Jennifer wiggled closer and he could feel every soft curve of her body through the thin material of her silk nightgown. She buried her face into his neck, chuckling softly.

 

“I have other way of helping you sleep.” Her voice was a velvet promise.

 

The blood in his body promptly surged from his brain south to his cock. “I didn’t think you were interested.”

 

She straddled him in a gracefully movement. “Then you haven’t been paying attention.” Leaning down over him, she brought her lips to his in a slow kiss.

 

K I N D R E D

           

She was awake just as the sun was rising and bouncing on him to wake him up. And not in the fun way. Literal bouncing. Deacon growled at her and Jennifer laughed gleefully, ignoring him. Cracking his eyes open, he was greeted by the sight of her nakedness and that made waking up suck a whole lot less.

 

“Why so chipper?” He demanded, wrapping an arm around her back and rolling her underneath him.

 

“The immortal comes today.”

 

“I thought I’d come today.” He grinned.

 

She lifted her head and nipped his jaw. “If you’re good.”

 

“Sweetheart, I’m always good.”

 

“That you are.” She gave him a quick kiss, “Now hurry. We must dress.”

 

            He climbed off of her and took a quick shower while Jennifer disappeared off in the direction of her room. He pulled on a light blue t-shirt and a pair of new jeans that looked like they could have been a pair of his from 2044. But he wasn’t about to start bitching when he hadn’t been the one to pay for it.

           

            He found Jennifer in the kitchen, dressed in a baggy sweater that was nearly the same shade and a pair of black leggings with silver scales all over. The caught the overhead light and glimmer brightly. Cole sat at the island counter and eyed them both. Ignoring the look, Deacon smacked him on the back in greeting and took the empty seat beside him.

 

“What is she so excited about?” Cole asked after he took a sip of coffee.

 

“Ask her.” Deacon replied, happily grabbing up the coffee mug Jennifer set in front of him.

 

“T-Minus two minutes.” She retorted, making a cup of tea and pouring milk and sugar in it.

 

“That’s not your usual.” Cole observed.

 

She shook her head. “It’s his.”

 

“Whose?”

 

“Kindred.” She replied, beaming over Deacon’s shoulder.

 

            Casting a glance in that direction, he watched as Cassie joined them. Her eyes did the same thing Cole’s did, flicked between Deacon and Jennifer, but unlike Cole, she asked about it.

 

“Why are you matching?”

 

“It wasn’t on purpose.” Deacon replied.

 

“Uh-huh.” Cassie said dryly.

 

            Jennifer stopped moving, her body going still. He heard her inhale, a soft gasp, and she looked up. Without a word, she hurried out of the kitchen and to the front door. When she pulled it open, it blocked the view of who was on the other side. Fielding a quick glance to Cassie and Cole, Deacon got up and moved, the pair following at his back.

 

            The man on the other side of the door was tall and slim. He was handsome with shoulder length hair and green eyes. Familiar green eyes. Deacon looked over at Cassie, who was an alarming shade of pale. Her eyes, the same green as the man on the other side of the door, were filled with unshed tears.

 

“Athan.” She gasped.

 

            Deacon looked back at the man, who offered them a slow smile.

 

“Hello, Mother. Father.” He greeted Cassie and Cole while Jennifer hauled her arms around his neck, “Good to see you too, little duck.”

 

            Deacon only followed part of Jennifer’s answer as she lapsed into French as she pulled away. Athan stepped inside and shut the door behind him, replying to her also in French, though his accent was clearly from another century.

 

“So this is The Immortal Kindred?” Deacon asked.

 

Jennifer nodded. “Kindred. Not yours, not mine, _theirs._ ”

 

“And Athan means immortal.” Cassie’s voice was soft, the tears fell down her face but she made no move towards him, “How are you here?”

 

“Ah, that, mother,” Athan replied with another slow smile, “Is a story unto itself.”

 

 

 

 


	3. Fidelity | Heretic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team takes a breath before they're plunged into a new mystery...

F I D E L I T Y

 

            Deacon ducked out of the unexpected family reunion, his growling stomach demanding attention. He didn’t need to know the fine details of Athan’s return; as long as Cassie and Cole were on their guard, he’d trust their instincts. Still, there was a healthy part of him that suspected a trap. And he’d take the steps necessary if that day were to ever come. 

           

            Surveying his options in the well-stocked kitchen, he decided to make waffles. Jennifer had purchased a Belgian waffle maker the last time they had gone out for supplies. _Groceries,_ He reminded himself as he plugged it in, _you’re not scavenging for food here._ Rounding up the ingredients and a mixing bowl, he set to his task, pausing only as he felt presence of another body at his spine. 

 

            He looked down at Hannah as she peered around his bicep. She was silent as ever, though he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to seeing her outside of her Daughters gear and makeup. Outside of it, she looked so much younger, so much softer. He would never admit that last part out loud, she’d show him just how much strength was hidden in her lithe frame. He already had one scar from her already, he didn’t have a desire to add more.

 

“What are you making?” She asked.

 

“Belgian waffles. The recipe was my Grandmother’s.” He answered, folding in chocolate chips to the batter, “The chocolate chips were my little brother’s insistence.”

 

Hannah snuck a few chips from the bag and popped them in her mouth, making a soft purr of approval low in her throat. “He made a wonderful call.”  She pulled herself up on to the counter with a small hop, “You don’t speak of him.”

 

Deacon shrugged. “It wouldn’t do any good. He’s dead.”

 

“Not now he isn’t.” She countered quietly.

 

He leveled her with a look. “It’s not like I could go see him, Hannah.” 

 

            Pouring the batter into the maker to make four waffles, he closed the lid and turned back to face her. She was watching him pensively.

 

“What?”

 

“Do you believe Athan is a danger to us?” 

 

Deacon sighed and crossed his arms over his chest.  “I don’t know.”

 

            Jones came into the kitchen, her wild hair tamed in a braid that hung down between her shoulder blades. She looked tired. More so than any of the rest of them. 

 

“You okay, doc?” He asked, attending to the machine, pulling the perfectly golden, chocolate chip speckled waffles out and plating them.

 

“I’ll be fine, Mr. Deacon.” She replied, “As long as the surprises stop coming.”

 

“Fat fucking chance of that.” He sighed.

 

            He passed them to Hannah and Jones, and filled the waffle maker with more batter.  Jones pulled out syrup and powdered sugar from the pantry and placed them between the plates. 

 

“More sugar?” Hannah’s voice was nearly a gasp, half disbelief, half delight.

 

A chuckle rose out of his chest watching as Jones topped both of their waffles with the sweet syrup and a light dusting of sugar. 

 

“Welcome to 2016, where there is no such thing as too much sugar.” He declared.

 

            Hannah dug in with enthusiasm while Jones was a bit more reserved. Deacon poured them a cup of coffee and freshened his. He took a sip of his and plated more waffles as Cassie, Cole, and Athan entered the room. He offered the plates to them. Cassie shook her head but stole his coffee while Cole and Athan accepted them. 

 

“I didn’t know you could cook.” Cassie gave him a soft smile from above the rim of his coffee mug.

 

“My Grandmother made sure I could.” He admitted, “I just never got to use my skills like this.”

 

“I like seeing you domestic.” 

 

“I don’t.” Cole said through a mouthful of food, “Weird as fuck.”

 

            Deacon flipped him off and took the sting out with a smile.  When the batter was gone and there was an impressive tower of thick waffles piled high on a plate, Deacon poured himself a new cup of coffee and went out on the balcony off the living room. The city below was awake and bustling. Taking a slow sip, his chest felt tight. He set the cup down on the ledge and felt Jennifer at his back seconds before her arms slid around him.

 

“Come eat.” She said gently.

 

“Maybe in a little bit.” 

 

            She rested her cheek against his spine and placed a hand over where the tightness ached the most; his heart. 

 

“Healing.” She whispered, “Found family heals.” 

 

“I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever cared about, Jennifer.” Deacon sighed, “And in the end of this, we’ll lose each other again.”

 

“So, cherish now. Don’t look to the uncertainty of the future.” She slid around his back until she rounded the front of his body, “Death can be undone, love cannot.” 

 

“Who said anything about love?” His tone was dry.

 

Jennifer drummed her long fingers in time with his heart. “You did. Right here.”

 

            He growled softly in lieu of using words. Jennifer huffed and rose up on her tip toes. She kissed him deeply, playing nipping his jaw when she broke away. Deacon hadn’t expected anything less; she loved to bite and frankly, he loved the sting of her teeth on his skin. Exhaling heavily, he held her tight while chaos still reigned in his chest.  

 

“Eat.” She chided, “You’ll feel better.”

 

“Fine.” He gave up, “Here’s hoping Cole didn’t polish them off.” 

 

“I’ll stab him with a fork if he did.” Jennifer vowed as she guided him inside.

 

“That’s my girl.”

 

 

 

H E R E T I C

 

 

            Three hours of research at the warehouse blurred by, fueled by shots of espresso and a dangerous amount of candy—Jennifer had a sweet tooth. At one table, Jones, Cassie, Cole, Hannah, and Athan were discussing possible plans of attack. While, at the other table, she and Deacon were reading. Well, she was pretending to read. The sugar in her system wasn’t letting her keep focus on much of anything for long. 

 

            Lounging across the tabletop of the second table, she gave up all pretense and let the file fall to the floor. Deacon was stretched out in his chair by her head, his eyes focused on the pages in his hand.  Even though he was currently upside down, she couldn’t stop staring at his hands. They were good hands. Knowledgeable. Deadly. Gentle. A paradox in themselves. 

 

            With Athan here, she wondered if she and Deacon could slip away. Progress was not being made by her anyways. Her time would be better spent with horizontal entertainment. Time apparently had other ideas, casting her the fool. The voices began like the rumble of distant thunder. Far away at first, soft, almost undetectable. Then louder and louder until they were screaming all at once, crashing loudly on top of one another. Impossible to untangle. Combined with her currently upside down state it sent her stomach rolling. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt the overwhelming urge to scream built up in her chest, the pressure nearly unbearable. 

 

“Jennifer?” Deacon’s voice felt too far away for as close as he sat to her. 

 

            With a jolt, her body was moving and she was on her feet. The room was wobbly or maybe it was her. She couldn’t focus. _Jennifer!_ Athan’s voice didn’t register to her ears, but over the din of voices. _Turn around!_ The sharp command drew her body like a puppet on a string. She was vaguely aware that he was in front of her, invading her space. His hands curled around her arms tight but the touch felt sharper. She could felt the noise in her throat but couldn’t hear it. 

 

Cassie had called him domestic but Deacon was hardly so. Bloodlust lived under his skin, sung in his veins like siren. Second nature, fueled by the abuse of his youth and the anarchy that swallowed the world after the plague. The savageness of his reign as Scav King. No, he wasn’t domestic, but calculated. A honed weapon to use.  And right now, that weapon was in kill mode. She didn’t know how he moved so fast. It was almost supernatural. He was behind Athan, holding a knife at his throat.

 

“Let her go.” 

 

            Jennifer could make out his voice on the edge of the storm in her mind. Her eyes darted over to Cassie and Cole, who had guns drawn and pointed at Deacon. Oh hell, this was a cluster fuck and she couldn’t form a goddamn sentence. 

 

“I will not let him hurt her.” Deacon said, “I don’t know him, I don’t trust him. I do know she’s in pain. Let. Her. Go.”

 

            Athan released her, the abruptness made her stagger back. Deacon stood down, re-sheathing his knife to his thigh. Cassie and Cole followed suit and Jennifer felt like she could breathe again. 

 

“Jennifer.” Athan’s eyes found hers, “Remember what I taught you. Channel our connection…”

 

            She tried to nod but it was more like a spasm. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to focus on a singular image, sifting through the decades. She occasionally could feel the other primaries too, she could feel Athan the clearest given his proximity. He could see what she was seeing too. Anger flared for the moment in the chaos; he could be calm, collected while she spiraled and babbled. Opening her eyes, she found him smiling in sympathy. 

 

            Something was being pressed into her palm. It was thick, solid, smooth. She lifted her hand and found a piece of charcoal; her favorite medium. Turning her head, she locked eyes with Hannah, and Jennifer’s eyes watered. Her body, satisfied with the implement in hand, moved on its own accord. She snapped it in half and handed it to Athan before she dropped to her knees. Arm moving frantically, she began to draw, holding focus on that one image. That’s what the voices needed her to do. Capture it, learn the truth from it. 

 

            Finally, finally, the voices receded and her hand stopped. Body sagging with exhaustion, she noticed the lighting had changed; day had turned into night. A hand appeared in front of her and she took it, letting Deacon pull her to her feet. She staggered into him and his arms came around her, hoisting her off the ground. Jennifer rested her head on his shoulder, eyes finding Athan. He looked tired as well, his breathing coming in tired pants.

 

“I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to be seeing.” Jones frowned.

 

“Then change your point of view.” Athan said softly, tilting his head behind them.

 

            There was a staircase that lead up to a small catwalk on the second floor. Deacon carried her the entire way up the stairs as they all crowded against the railing. In dark charcoal, she and Athan had drawn two very different things. She had drawn a large symbol of a snake eating its own tail. While Athan had drawn a portrait of a woman. Yet, there was parts that flowed into one another. A connection. There was something familiar about her face but Jennifer couldn’t figure out _what_. 

 

            _Something about the eyes…_

 

“Otter eyes.” She whispered.

 

“I told you to stop calling me that.” Cole grumbled beside them.

 

“Not you, _hers._ ”

 

Cole’s brows knitted together. “I don’t get it.”

 

“Do you recognize her at all?” Cassie asked.

 

“No.”

 

“You don’t?” Athan sounded surprised.

 

“Should I?”

 

Athan’s answer came slow, careful. “That is a portrait of your mother.” 

 

The voices had come together to cast a word, whether it was a word or warning she couldn’t be sure. It left her lips in a hollowed whisper. “ _Heretic_.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a fair chance this might be the end of this story. I genuinely have no idea where I'm going from here.


End file.
